The Girl
by aero13
Summary: Kidnapped by an Iraq group of terroists, I try to help the NCIS team track down the group's boss. With a little side mission that leads everyone off track, will he get away?


_me-heyy it's something new i've been wanting to write. I love NCIS soo much so why not right? I'm trying my best with Ziva and Ducky and everyone else, so bare with me for right now -_-' and no, i don't really have anything against them, it's just what i think they would say okay?_

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><p>Darkness, it was all around. What was going to happen next? When were they coming back? Would they come back? The small one seemed nervous, jumpy almost as he handed out the drugs. Said drugs lay forgotten in the corner when he had ran out of the room, gun pulled out from his waist band.<p>

Gun shots fired off, the air humming with vibrations.

"NCIS! Put your hands up!"

Their was a lot of yelling, only a few snippets rose above the shots, things like, "Found them!", "Clear!", or even some from those awful people. The most common being "Run!" or "Destroy the book!"

They babbled on in their native tongue, through all the confusion there was a higher pitched voice talking in the same language. It was odd hearing those same accents in a female's tone, just hearing her voice was different. It was only males around here.

Suddenly everything was quiet, deathly quiet. Nothing moved for a good amount of time. Then there was a faint mumble, someone calling the police, or that kind of branch. Seconds after the voice stopped shuffling feet sounded.

Something opened, like a briefcase, and little clicks, similar to flashlights, too. Quick measured steps went around, bouncing off the hollow, tin walls of the warehouse building. One of the surviving people came really close to the hiding spot. They paused, then continued on, probably not finding anything of interest.

I waited a few seconds, hoping beyond hope that they would see something strange and come back. Just by moving the crate, they would find a small door, no bigger than three foot tall and wide. It would creak open and that one person would find me.

Seconds ticked by and I was getting scared. What if they didn't move the crate in time? The last time I was given water was... When was the last time? They were smart. My captures never came like clock work. Either it was planed, or it just worked out like that, I had lost track of the days easily.

Finally, getting worried, I raised my hand, it as very painful to do, and knocked on the tin walls.

Knock, knock.

It echoed painfully loud in my normally silent container. Would the people hear it? Maybe. Would they think something of it? Hopefully.

I knocked on the walls again, a little harder this time.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Everything froze outside my little box.

They had heard it!

When no one made move, I began to worry again. They probably didn't really hear it.

My face fell, I could feel it. I would cry but I couldn't afford to waste water on that.

At last I shakily stood up from the cold, hard, cement floor and held myself up using the wall. I kicked it, making sure to curl my toes back. I hurt enough that it wasn't needed to hurt anymore.

I tried to yell, but no words came out. It must have been a while since my last sip of water. It was that one nice one, the taller man with the green clothes. He had snuck me an extra cup of water, even a carrot, and a slice of an apple.

That made me wonder, had the big boss left by then? Had he known that something like this would have happened so he wanted to get away? If I could just get my hands on him.

I heard the box scrap by the wood door. Jumping slightly, I fell down, scooting back so just in case it was one of them, I wouldn't be right there.

The door opened really slow, and it creaked. The light spilled in, an odd thing. They always kept the light off in this part of the building. Just in case I was able to get a peek at them, I wouldn't see everything else.

A cold looking gun was pointed at me and I shivered, scooting back even more, back hitting the steel wall. Hands followed the gun, then arms, and the rest of the person. He stood tall, eyes peeking over the metal and under the hat he wore.

NCIS stood proudly in white over the bill.

I put my hands up, eyes wide and trained on his. His face went a little pale, as if he realized who he was pointing the weapon at. In a second it disappeared and he rush forward, getting down on his knees.

A strange gurgling yelp worked its way up from my throat and my arms came up instinctively. The man paused, green eyes worried before he called for someone.

He stood up from his position and stepped back. I relaxed slightly, only to jump when a female came in. She must have been the one yelling in that language.

"What happened?" She mumbled softly to her partner.

"I don't know Ziva, she was like this when I came in." He told the female, Ziva.

Ziva turned towards me, slowly walking forward. I flinched slightly but she kept coming.

"I'm Special Agent Ziva David, from NCIS." She spoke slowly, her words thick with an accent.

I guess I nodded because she continued.

"My team is here on a case that involved a group from Iraq. This is Special Agent Timothy McGee. My boss and Agent DiNozzo are here as well and are scooping out the place for any evidence."

The other one, McGee sighed. "It's scoping out, not scooping out, Ziva."

The woman looked at him oddly. "That is what I said, no?"

He shook his head, pausing. McGee went over to the corner, pulling on a plastic glove. "What is this?" He mumbled, looking at the drugs intently.

"Those are drugs native to Iraq." She told him, helping me up to my feet.

"Why would-"

"Probie, what do you have?" An old voice called out.

He jumped slightly, turning around. "There's a girl in here, and some drugs. They don't look used."

"Well, what's taking you so long? Get the pictures and tell Ducky about her!" The voice yelled back.

"Ah, boss. She's alive." McGee stood and quickly walked to the door. Another figure stepped in the doorway, blocking some of the blinding light.

"What the hell are you-" I was right, he was old. I glanced up at him, shying behind Ziva, which didn't work very well. I tripped and started to fall.

The older man was right next to me, holding onto my arms.

"Careful now." He looked over at Ziva and McGee, expectantly. "Well? Get working!" The boss helped me walk out of the room, telling my to close my eyes. I did, knowing full well that they were dead and that their bodies were probably scattered around the large warehouse.

The last few things I remember were seeing an even older man and his worried face.

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><p><em>me-this was something i've wanted to write because i've been watching NCIS for a long time now. and recently i've been watching the first season on dvd. its just something i thought of. it has no real place in the origional timeline so i don't know. it's not compete, I still have things to work out yet if I decide to go forward with it. it's something very different than my normal stories so i'll see<em>


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